Dystopia
by scribblemyname
Summary: Snippets from a world that hates and fears them. A series of drabbles and very short one-shots. Charles, Erik, Raven, Jubilee, Kitty/Pyro
1. All Things to All People

**Dystopia**

**Story Summary:** Snippets from a world that hates and fears them. A series of drabbles and very short one-shots.

**Story Notes:** Spans series from XMFC to post-X3. These have been previously posted, but I'm cleaning up and consolidating my drabbles and one-shots as much as possible now.

**Chapter Notes:** For the Blue Skies Drabblethon on LJ. Prompt: shelter.

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><p><strong>All Things to All People<strong>

Professor Charles Xavier is not all things to all people. He is one thing.

To a little blue girl without a home, to an angry Jew—and mutant—who survived the Holocaust, to a Hispanic woman forced to sell her body before she was even grown, to an orphaned African goddess stunned to learn she is not divine, to a blind outcast, to a young girl who cannot escape the storm within her own mind, to a feral without his memory, to a runaway teenager trapped inside her skin, to a grieving lover, to a family-forsaken outcast...

He is shelter.


	2. Humanity of the Cured

**Chapter Notes:** Another standalone drabble written for **100wordstories**. Prompt: only human.

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><p><strong>Humanity of the Cured<strong>

Hatred was not his strongest trait, regardless of what motivations inferior humanity ascribed to him. He did not release Raven's hand because he hated her; he did not kill the humans who shot her because he hated them. His hatred had died years ago with the man who killed his mother.

No, he did not hate humanity. He was disgusted by it, by its weakness, its frailty, its blind bigotry, its very inhumaneness.

Erik stared at the trembling chess pieces before him and laughed without humor. He would find Raven again, blue—_"perfection"_—for they would never be only human.


	3. Fighting Dystopia

**Chapter Notes:** So this popped out on accident, but it really struck me. I always think of Xavier and Magneto as flipped, and then I thought of Genosha and of kids that never get to be kids, and I did a double-take. Prompt: dystopia, for **100wordstories** LJ comm.

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><p><strong>Fighting Dystopia<strong>

Jubilee slams her books onto her dorm's student desk. Doesn't have the satisfying ring of a locker. She wants to cry; instead, she throws off a dozen sparklers to burn up what's left of the walls.

She always thought the Professor was fighting for utopia. She could believe in that: America's golden streets.

Staring at the demolished remains of the mansion, the result of a new program—_sentinels_, walking her golden streets, that promised American dream—of a government "by the people with liberty and justice for all," now she knows the truth. And she hates it.

She's fighting dystopia.


	4. Refuge

**Chapter Summary: **The world is at war between mutants and humans. John has one place of refuge.

**Chapter Notes: **Prompt Song: "Refuge" by Anne Maccallum. LiveJournal memery, prompted by **arliddian.**

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><p><strong>Refuge<strong>

There was one place John could always go, no matter how far into the depths of hell and the oceans of blood he fell. There was one heart who would take him in her hands and pull him through the door into her tiny, clean apartment with its small knick-knacks and pictures of happier days—a haven against the ravages of war.

Xavier had been wrong. Magneto was right. And neither of them were alive to see it.

Kitty never asked. She never seemed to care if the blood on his hands and body were his or someone else's. She washed it off and changed his shirt and brought him water and food. They sat in silence: Pyro, the mutant warrior, and Shadowcat, the hidden hacker. Both were powerful forces in the mutant resistance; neither believed in the same things.

John believed in killing anyone who wanted to kill this tiny, woman hidden away from the rest world. Kitty believed in saving anyone who could not save themselves, whether from their own hates, their own fears, or even their own selves.

"Thank you," he finally said, setting down the empty bowl.

"You are always welcome here," she said.

He wanted to kiss her. He never did. Instead, the flames in the fireplace burned a little higher, he stayed a little longer, their hands whispered over jeans to clasp together.

Tomorrow, he would face the world again, the battle raging outside of these sheltering walls. He would not say goodbye.


End file.
